


Not Quite Sizzler

by romanticalgirl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4224423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey's hungry, dammit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Sizzler

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andchaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchaos/gifts).



> For absolutqueen who wanted a cute date night

Ian’s lying in bed face down when Mickey gets home and, as much as he hates it, a sliver of fear shoots up his spine. He walks over to the bed, tossing his jacket on the chair against the wall. “You getting up today at all?”

“Is this a sex question?” His voice is muffled, but Mickey can hear the smile. 

The fear dissipates and he pokes Ian in the side. “Could be. Though I’m kind of hungry. Thinking about going out and getting some dinner.” He pokes Ian again. “You want to come with?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Fuck off with your date. You hungry or not?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m hungry.” Ian pushes off the bed, and Mickey can see the soft indentations in his skin from where he was laying on the sheet. “Late night. I’m too old for this shit.”

“You’re, like, seventeen, dude.”

“Eighteen.”

“Whatever. A child.”

“A child? You’re calling the guy who gives it to you up the ass a child? Are you hoping that he _won’t_ do that anymore?”

“Shut up. You love my ass too much to keep away from it.” Mickey shoves Ian lightly and Ian falls back onto the bed dramatically. Ian’s just wearing boxers, and Mickey can see that he’s turned on. “Keep it in your pants, Gallagher. If I don’t get some food, I’m going to be forced to eat Yev’s fucking strained peas or something.”

“They’re not bad.”

Mickey just stares at Ian then shakes his head. “You are so fucking twisted.” He grabs Ian’s jeans and tosses them at him. “Come on. I’d like to have dinner before fucking breakfast time.”

Ian grumbles and tugs his jeans on, leaving them undone as he stumbles out of the bedroom to the bathroom. Mickey rolls his eyes and grabs a shirt for Ian and waits in the hallway. He leans against the wall as Ian pisses, washes his hands and brushes his teeth. “What’s your fucking hurry, Mick?”

“Just get your ass in gear.” He tosses the shirt at Ian and Ian’s eyebrows go up. It’s one of his nicer shirts, the one he wears to interviews for jobs he never gets. 

“What is this?”

“Not twenty fucking questions. Come _on_.” He tugs Ian into the living room and shoves him onto the couch, kicking Ian’s tennis shoes over at him. He stares at Ian until he starts putting his shoes on. Lighting a cigarette, Mickey takes a deep breath and exhales a fan of smoke. “Ready?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck.” Ian starts buttoning the shirt as Mickey turns and heads for the door. “You’d think you didn’t eat fucking three times a day.”

“Quit muttering.” Mickey throws back over his shoulder as he goes down the front steps. He can practically feel Ian flipping him off, and he has to fight down his grin. At the gate, he turns and looks at Ian who is, predictably, pouting. Mickey exhales slowly and holds out his hand. “C’mon.”

Ian looks from Mickey’s hand to his face several times before reaching out. He nearly jerks his hand back when he touches Mickey’s, which makes Mickey choke on a laugh. “Shut up.”

Mickey wiggles his fingers at him. “Oooh. My scary, scary hand.”

“I’ve seen what you can do with that hand,” Ian snaps. 

Mickey takes a step toward Ian and threads their fingers together. “You’ve felt it too. Felt good, didn’t it?”

Ian groans low in his throat and tugs Mickey’s hand to the front of his jeans, rubbing the back of it against his fly. “You always feel good.”

“Much as I’d love to dine on your dick, I’m actually looking for an actual source of protein, so come on.” He keeps his fingers laced with Ian’s. He feels like there are eyes staring at him from every direction like he’s walking down some hallway in a Scooby Doo cartoon, but it’s not like he and Ian are a secret. Not like either of them has to hide.

Ian walks beside him, adjusting his stride to Mickey’s automatically. It’s one of the nice ways they’re in synch with each other, one of the subconscious things that makes something inside Mickey twist and break open, another wall tumbling down. “Dine on Dick would be a good restaurant name.”

“No, it really wouldn’t.” Mickey squeezes Ian’s hand. “Now, for a fucking rub and tug? Excellent name.”

Ian sticks his tongue out at him. “You’d know.”

“I am an entrepreneur. The bold new face of business today. Pretty sure I’m gonna be on Time magazine.”

“Pimps Quarterly.” Mickey stops walking, and it takes a few steps before Ian does as well, looking back over their stretched arms. He frowns slightly, tilting his head. “What?”

Mickey shakes his head and pulls Ian back beside him, tilting his head up for a kiss. Ian’s eyes widen for a moment before he brushes his lips over Mickey’s. It’s light, barely there, but it’s more than Mickey ever thought he’d be able to do. “Come on.”

“Yeah.” Ian nods and they start walking again. Mickey can feel Ian’s curiosity and he’s waiting for Ian to lose his patience and ask Mickey where they’re going. It’s almost like a countdown, a guess when to start at 10. How many deep breaths will it take him to break down and start pestering Mickey with questions again. “I thought you were hungry.”

“Am.”

“This is kind of a leisurely stroll for a guy who seemed ready to gnaw his own arm off.”

“We’ll be there soon enough.”

“Don’t think they’ll let us in to Alinea in jeans.”

“Fuck you if you think I’m paying $300 to feed your ass.”

“Twice that if we both eat.” Ian grins. “How do you know how much it costs to eat there?”

“I can use Google, asshole.”

“But _why_ would you look them up on Google?”

Mickey flips Ian off and huffs offendedly. Ian fails at hiding his smirk, so Mickey just ignores him as well as he can. Ian being a smart-ass is just Ian’s natural state. Ian being a cocky smart-ass is when he really wants to annoy Mickey. Always has been. “Just up here.”

Ian frowns and glances around. Mickey can tell he’s expecting something fancy to pop up out of the woodwork, and he wants to tell him he’s just going to be disappointed, but he doesn’t _want_ Ian to be disappointed. He’s starting to think this is a really fucking bad idea.

They round the block and stop, Ian staring at the sight in front of them. There are lights flashing like they’re back at the Fairy Tail and music blaring from various trucks, all of them trying to drown each other out. The air smells like a little bit of everything and it’s almost enough to make Mickey nauseous.

“What is this?”

Mickey points to the sign for the _Pilsen Food Truck Social_. There are booths with artists and jewelry and non-profit fliers, tie-dye clothing places that are probably just a cover up for some illegal substances changing hands. “Thought we’d try something different.”

“Are you serious?” Ian’s eyes are lit up like he’s on something, a kid in a candy store. “I mean, seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you don’t want to...”

Ian shuts Mickey up with a hard, deep kiss that makes Mickey’s toes curl and his dick throb. “You are seriously the best.”

“I don’t know about that.” He digs in his pocket and hands Ian a ticket. “Sampler thing. But if you find something you’re really hungry for, let me know. My treat.”

“I have something I’m really hungry for.” Ian grins at Mickey and tugs him back in for another kiss. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t really do shit, Gallagher. Just saw a thing in the paper.”

“And knew I’d love it.” Ian rests his forehead against Mickey’s. “I’m going to eat everything. Like, literally. Every. Single. Thing.”

“You’re gonna be the size of a house.”

Ian grins and walks backwards, holding both of Mickey’s hands and dragging him along. “Guess we’re going to have to come up with some way for me to work it off.”


End file.
